


a year in the life

by curnon



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Ben Solo is a Mess, Eventual Smut, F/M, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Minor Violence, Redeemed Ben Solo, Slow Burn, honestly, redemption arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26642074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curnon/pseuds/curnon
Summary: Sometimes in life, you have to grovel. Sometimes you have to apologise, even when it hurts. Sometimes you need to return home with your tail between your legs and admit that you were wrong. Benjamin Solo had been putting off doing just that for years. Benjamin Solo, stubborn and stupid, was finally admitting defeat.Or; Ben Solo bailed on his family six years ago, and now he's back to make amends, to get his life back.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 8
Kudos: 88





	a year in the life

Sometimes in life, you have to grovel. Sometimes you have to apologise, even when it hurts. Sometimes you need to return home with your tail between your legs and admit that you were wrong. Benjamin Solo had been putting off doing just that for years. Benjamin Solo, stubborn and stupid, was finally admitting defeat.

The drive took 18 hours. Ben stretched it to take four days, enduring shitty coffee and stale doughnuts as sustenance on the way. His car was a piece of shit, but it was the only thing he could get with such little notice. It shuddered its way up hills, and its breaks squealed at the slightest touch. It was cathartic, he found himself thinking, having a car that could barely function helped keep his mind off of his regrets. He was too tall for the car, his knees bumping the bottom of the steering wheel no matter how far back he put the seat, so much so that he had occasionally taken his hands off the wheel and steered with his knees.

The car overheated twice on the drive, and Ben resolved to sell the thing if, and when, he made it back to his hometown. The closer he got to the town in question, the harder it was to look in the rear-view mirror. There was nothing left behind him, he had to tell himself. All of it had to be forward, had to be yet to come. The ‘Welcome to Harrison’ sign was like a punch in the gut, and _fuck_ did he hope he’d made the right call. Once he was in town the drive was muscle memory. He watched the familiar streets as he drove, watched as the leafy green streets formed around him. He pulled onto his parents street, counted the numbers, and _finally_ , the house from his daydreams, and some of his nightmares, appeared.

He parked on the street, not daring to pull into the driveway. Ben took a moment to look up at the house, and wonder if he had gotten smaller or if it had gotten bigger. Perhaps he just felt smaller. He left all of his belongings in the car, and made his way up to the front door. He knocked on the deep blue door. He waited a moment, and he started to think that they weren’t home, that he’d driven through the night to have them not be at home. Ben was just about to turn back to the car, and come up with a plan for later that day, or maybe even tomorrow, when the door opened.

Han was standing in the doorway, and his face went through a series of emotions in the second it took for him to realise what he was seeing. Confusion, surprise, relief, anger. The only thing Ben was capable of was,

“Hi Dad.”

Before Han’s fist collided with Ben’s face. Ben stumbled backwards, and Han followed him in to the front yard, still silent. He threw another punch, and Ben took that one too.

Han grunted as he hit him again, “Hit me back, Ben.”

Ben did as he was told, he tackled his father into the grass and pulled back his fist. Their fight lasted all of a few minutes, and ended with them sitting side by side on the grass, Ben leaning his head through his knees, and Han laying flat on his back looking up at the sky, panting.

“Good to see you, kid.”

“Wanna get a beer?” Ben asked him, his voice hoarse. His shirt was ripped near his neck and his jeans stained from the grass, his knuckles red and a black eye starting to form.

“Yeah.”

Han refused to get in Ben’s shitty car, and insisted they take his old Ford Falcon. Ben would have been surprised it was still running, if he didn’t know that Han been working on it every Sunday - rain, hail, or shine, since before Ben was born. The two of them drove in silence to the bar. There wasn’t any tension, it was just… silent.

“You here to stay?” Han asked as they sat down in a booth at the bar, drinks in hand, “Or is this just a visit?”

“Staying is the plan.”

“Your mother would like that.”

Benjamin looked down at the beer in his hand. The last time he and his dad had a drink together, it had ended with Ben packing a duffle bag, and leaving the house in the middle of the night. That had been six years ago. He noticed the grip he had on his glass, his bruised knuckles whitening.

“And what about you?”

“I’d like it too.”

“It wasn’t on, what I did.” Ben said, forcing himself to look up at Han. If he didn’t have the balls to do this head on, he should have stayed out of their lives, “I know I can’t take it back, but-“

“You’re forgiven, kid. Long before you got here.”

“You made me fight you.”

“Figured you’d need to get it out of your system.”

Ben opened his mouth to argue, but the glint in Han’s eye, and the gift of hindsight, convinced him to see things Han’s way. Han was right, of course. Ben would have been walking around on eggshells if things had gone smoothly, waiting for the penny to drop.

“What about mom?”

“She won’t hit you.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Like I said, long before you got here.”

“Why?”

“You’re _my_ son. It was in your blood to fuck up somewhere,” Han finished off his drink, standing to go order another round, but not before placing his hand on his son’s shoulder and saying, “I’m glad you’re here, Ben.”

Han left Ben to sit in that. The lump in Ben’s throat was firmly behind his Adams apple, and he passed the time that his father was gone by looking down at his hands. He had bruises and cuts, but they looked different to him now. His father saw him as redeemed, Ben wasn’t so sure he could see himself that way. Ben had been twenty-three when he left town. His girlfriend had told him she was pregnant, and then he found out it wasn’t his. Then, his best friend had died in a car accident. Ben had a college education but no prospects, no job, no friends, and no fucking idea. His whole world was falling apart around him. He stole his uncles motorbike, and he took to the west coast. Ben had left his parents a note that had read, “I fucking hate this town. I’m gone. Ben”.

They tried for months to convince him to come home. He never answered their calls. It wasn’t until Leia hired a private investigator to track him down, that Ben grabbed the guy by the collar and snarled, “You tell them I said to stay the fuck out of my life.” And they did. He’d been relieved. The contact stopped. The P.I’s stopped. The expectation to be Benjamin Solo, son of Han and Leia, stopped. He was just Ben, and his life could be as fucked up as he wanted it to be. It took six months for his life to unravel. He fell into rough crowds, got into fights just to feel anything, took drugs to not feel, had sex for something to do, smoked to calm his nerves, sold his uncles bike to pay his rent in his mould infested apartment, damaged public property to put his anger _somewhere_. It took him four years to put back together what unraveled. 12 months community service, 6 months rehab, a job writing for an online magazine, 12 months anger management, 18 months therapy. He’d broken every good thing he’d ever had in his life. He’d told his therapist he wanted to come home, and she’d said to him, “Be prepared for the possibility that they may not want you there.” That had stung, but he appreciated her honesty. Ben would have been okay if Han had slammed the door in his face, he’d almost been expecting it.

A pint glass was set down in front of him.

Han took his seat across from Ben, and gave him the smile he’d always worn - one that said ‘you can’t hide anything from me, kid’. Only, Ben wasn’t trying to hide anymore.

“Can I stay with you for a little while?” Ben asked suddenly.

“Just assumed you would.”

Ben leaned his elbow on the table as he considered that. He had been gone for six years. Six, shitty, years. He’d built his parents up to be the antagonists of his dramatic exeunt from town, and it had taken him a long time to unpack that, to see it for what it was - misplaced rage, a need to be truly _seen._ Han was sitting across from him with a split lip, drinking his beer, telling Ben that the house he turned his back on was still his home, after everything he put them all through. Anything he tried to say to Han fell short of the truth, was an undershot of how he truly felt. His chest was tight, his hands shaking a little.

Ben knew he didn’t deserve the forgiveness, but he’d die before he would throw it away again.

An hour or so passed, and Han checked his watch some time in the mid-afternoon. Wordlessly he followed Han back out to the car. Han threw him the keys, and Ben faltered. He’d never been allowed to drive the Falcon before. Never. Han got in the passengers seat like it wasn’t a big deal, and Ben was even more glad that he’d stopped at two beers. He got in the drivers side, and the leather of the steering wheel felt smooth under his hands, it felt like understanding, forgiveness. The drive home was short, too short, the sixteen year old in Ben wanted to drive the Falcon with his dad all across town, but they didn’t. He drove them home, and Ben spotted the shit car he’d bought in Portland.

“Do you know anyone that would want that piece of junk?” Ben asked Han as he passed the keys back to him, “I was thinking I’d sell it, give the money to Luke, for the bike.”

“I’ll list it in the paper tomorrow for you. Go grab your things, then come give me a hand with getting dinner ready.”

Ben did as he was told. Getting his duffle bag from the car, the very same one he left home with all those years ago, leaving it in the hallway of his family home. Nothing had changed. The house smelled like crisp linen and fresh bread. Ben swallowed hard against the urge to cry. He found Han in the kitchen, and he’d laid out a chopping board, a knife, and a bunch of vegetables.

“Cut those however you want, they’re for the salad.”

The two of them worked diligently. Ben finished the salad and put the serving bowl filled with green and red and orange and yellow vegetables in the fridge, and watched as Han prepared a marinade for the steaks he’d bought that morning. Ben counted the steaks and then frowned,

“You got those this morning?”

“Sure did, fresh is best.”

“But there’s three.”

“Glad to see you’re still able to count.”

“You didn’t know I was coming.”

Han realised what Ben was asking, his hands working slower on loading the steaks into the marinade. There was a silence that Han seemed hesitant to fill, until he finally said,

“We always get three. Just in case.”

Ben felt as though his father had punched him again. They’d been buying food for him, probably setting the table for him, the whole time he’d been gone. How many meals had they made for him that went uneaten? How many birthday and Christmas’ dinners had been thrown out because he hadn’t come home? Ben didn’t get to ask, or even comment on this revelation, because the door that connected the garage to the kitchen opened.

Leia threw her keys in the bowl with a clatter, and started to say hello to her husband, when she stopped dead in her tracks. She was looking at Ben like he was a ghost, and he supposed he might as well have been for all they knew.

“Hi Mom” he said weakly, standing from his spot at the bench.

Leia’s eyes darted from Ben to Han, and back again. She picked up her set of keys and Ben thought she was about to turn around and leave, but she surprised him. She ditched the keys at Han, and shouted,

“You gave him a black eye!” 

Once the shock wore off there was a lot of crying. Leia cried, Ben cried, Han cried but pretended he had something in his eye. They ate dinner as a family for the first time in six years, and Ben apologised repeatedly, only to be dismissed each time. He learnt that his mother had started her own law firm, and that she’d only done so to distract herself from Ben’s disappearance, but that it turned out to be the best thing for her career, that she finally felt as though she had complete freedom over the cases they took and the cases they turned down. Leia liked to be in charge, always had. When dinner was done, they sat in the living room until the early hours of the morning, Han falling asleep in his armchair. Leia sent Ben off to bed, and he made his way up to his old room. The walls had old band posters and photos tacked to them with pins, and his bed was made. He could smell the washing detergent. They’d been washed and recently, and with the steaks, Ben was starting to realise what Han had meant when he said, ‘You were forgiven long before you got here’. He felt undeserving of his parents love.

Ben had thought it would be hard adjusting to life back at the Organa-Solo household, but it wasn’t. Leia gave Ben her old home office so he could write from home. Ben printed off all of the articles he’d written in the last 12 months and she read every single one, just so she could see his name under the title. Han would make him a coffee and sit in the office with him while he worked, reading the newspaper or a book, it didn’t seem to matter to Han. Leia had taken a few days off work to spend with Ben and Han at first, but within a day her cellphone was ringing every five minutes and she decided it was easier for everyone if she just went back to work. When Han left on a work trip, Ben found himself wandering around the house feeling alone for the first time in months, so he pulled out his phone and sent his mother a text.

**Ben**

Free for lunch?

**Leia**

If you’ll let me pay.

**Ben**

What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you pay?

**Leia**

My god, you’re your fathers son.

**Ben**

I’ll come to the office, meet you at 12.30 in the lobby.

Ben had sold the matchbox of a car, and given the money to his Uncle Luke, who had not forgotten about Ben stealing his bike. Though, Luke had mentioned later that it was probably a good thing he didn’t have that bike anymore when Ben told him the thing actually didn’t even make it halfway the coast. He’d been given sole Falcon privileges while Han was away for work, so he drove it to his mothers office in town and parked it in the garage below the building. He took the elevator to the lobby, and sat down on the plush couches, waiting for Leia to come down. When she finally did, she wasn’t alone. Leia was walking and talking, and beside her was a lean, tall, brunette carrying a notebook in which she was making quick notes.

Leia spotted Ben with a bright smile, and he stood as she got close, kissing her cheek before turning his attention to the brunette. She wore a pair of high waisted long grey pants, and a loose fitting white button up tucked into the waistband. She was wearing heels, from what Ben could tell, but she still only came up to his shoulder.

“Ben, this is Rey, my intern,” Leia said, waving between the two of them, “Rey, this is Ben, my son.”

It took Ben a second to process the sight of the woman up close. She was tan where he was pale, lightly dusted with freckles where he was marred by dark spots, narrow where he was broad, fragile where he was clumsy, she was beautiful. Ben finally held his hand out to hers, and she smiled brightly,

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,”

Her accent was enough to make Ben falter, “A-Are you joining us for lunch?” He asked, attempting a casual tone he was sure his mother could see through.

“Oh, no. I would hate to intrude, plus I’ve got a list of depositions as long as my arm to transcribe before Friday-”

Leia chided her, “Take a break for once, Rey!”

A little colour rose in her cheeks and Ben couldn’t help but smile as he said, “Please join us.”

Rey did join them, after much convincing and a hollow threat from Leia that she would cut her hourly rate if she didn’t join them (Coercion, Rey had called it. Manipulation of the situation to my advantage, Leia had rebutted). Ben had never been so captivated someone in his whole life. Rey had an ease with people that he would have envied if he didn’t enjoy watching her do it so much. She had in-jokes with the wait staff by the time he paid the bill (which she argued with him over), and had them all in fits of laughter and waving the three of them out of the restaurant. Ben had tried to stay involved in the conversation, but truthfully he found himself engrossed in the back and forth between Leia and Rey - easy, quick witted, sharp. Rey was intelligent - she was Leia’s favourite intern by far, Ben could tell (unspoken but supported by the evidence before him - fucking lawyers). He’d been disappointed to have to drop them back off at the office, and on the drive home the silence in the Falcon was deafening.

Leia brought pizza home for dinner, and Ben told her about an interview he’d been offered at the local newspaper. It paid less than the magazine, and would consume more of his time, but he’d have somewhere to go to work, and feel like he had a purpose outside of his familial redemption arc. His mother cried again (she’d been doing that a lot, happy tears, she’d promised), and when Ben asked her if he had upset her she said,

“I just - I didn’t think you were going to stay.”

Whenever he tried to apologise for what he did they waved him off. He wasn’t sure why he kept trying, it was probably in the hopes that the deluge of apology would be cathartic, but they wouldn’t let him have it. He found a therapist in the next town over, and started going once every two weeks - she told him he probably should try and channel the guilt somewhere else, pick up a hobby or something. So Ben tried running. He got up at 5.30am, every morning, and ran. Symbolically, it probably wasn’t the best choice. You could argue he was running from the guilt, from the shame, but Ben liked to think about it as putting the guilt and shame somewhere else, channeling the energy outwards rather than inwards. It worked, a little. So he tried the piano. He’d had lessons as a kid, but he was rusty and his fingers ached at first from reaching in ways they hadn’t in decades. He practiced when the house was empty, and eventually it started to become easier. He worked through every single one of the songbooks that were buried within the piano stool.

Ben got the job at the newspaper. He started on a Wednesday morning, and he wore a suit and tie, only to find that everyone dressed a lot more casually than he’d anticipated, so by lunch he had removed the tie and rolled his shirt sleeves up his forearms. He met his coworkers, they were nice, polite, many of them familiar with his mothers work, but for the first time in his life he basked in his mothers shadow instead of running from it. He didn’t have an assigned column, so he wrote pieces all over the paper - sports, breaking news, human interest. Ben appreciated somewhere to go in the day, something to achieve, but he still felt like something was missing.

So he writes a book. At least, he starts one. He starts by writing on his lunch break at his computer, his therapist tells him he should make friends, but it’s hard to make friends when you’re twenty-nine and live at home with your parents. Writing is good, writing is cathartic. He spills his soul into the Word document and he leaves the underlined spelling mistakes for later, he wants to get it first, fix later. He keeps the document on a USB in his pocket at all times, it carries some of the darkest thoughts and lowest moments he’s ever had, and the book turns from non-fiction to fiction, from autobiographical to semi-autobiographical. It’s about him, but it’s not. The book carries his thoughts and emotional baggage, but it doesn’t feel right for it to centre him. He’s had enough of that. He writes at work, and at home. He gets writers block around Christmas, and he’s relieved for the time to have a break from work and from writing and from running.

The ground turned icy and the wind grew savage as December rolled on without hesitation. Ben helped Han hang the lights on the eaves of the house, and almost fell off the roof twice - both times Han caught him by the back of his shirt, which he started calling ‘Ben’s lucky shirt’. He went and picked out a massive tree for the living room, and together the three of them decorated it. Leia’s last day of work for the holidays came and went, only when she came home she wasn’t alone. She had Rey with her.

Ben was in an ugly fucking Christmas sweater for his mothers benefit, and she had bought home a goddess. His jaw clenched as he remained calm, trying to stave the heat rising through his neck and to his ears.

Rey didn’t have anyone to spend Christmas with, Leia explained. So Rey spent Christmas with the Organa-Solo’s. Ben struggled to focus when Rey was around, she had this magnetic energy about her that drew his attention from whatever he was doing (reading, cooking, playing the piano for the 50th time for Leia) to find her in the room. She was almost always watching him, her head tilted to the side in what Ben could only hope was intrigue. Ben didn’t think he was intriguing, but he hoped Rey thought he was. Han and Leia left one morning to do some final grocery shopping for Christmas dinner, and Ben found Rey sitting at the piano.

“Do you play?” He asked her, she didn’t seem startled by his presence,

“No, I always wanted to though.”

“I could teach you, if you want.”

So Ben taught her how to play piano, or at least he tried. Rey’s hands were so much smaller than he realised, and reaching for the keys turned out to be quite the challenge for her. She laughed every time she hit a wrong note - not in a self-depreciating way, but in an adorably lighthearted way. Ben wondered how one person could be filled with so much light, _fuck_ , her smile alone was contagious, let alone every other little thing she did. Ben had learned a lot about Rey in the week she stayed with them. She was an orphan, she grew up in foster care, she put herself through college and then law school on scholarships and part time jobs. She was driven, intelligent, kind, warm. Ben felt like her polar opposite. Unworthy of sharing even a second of her time, and yet, he made a point of spending as much time with her as possible. Christmas Day was joyous, Luke came around and gave Ben a model motorbike as a gift and the whole family laughed, Rey looked confused until Luke told her about the theft. Ben’s ears felt hot, but he did not deny it, how could he? Ben and Han cooked all afternoon, and between the four of them they didn’t even come close to finishing it all. Ben fell asleep on the couch while reading, and when he woke up, Rey was balled up the other end of the couch, her feet touching his calves. Ben stayed still, he didn’t want to disturb her, and eventually he fell back asleep. When he woke up, some time in the middle of the night, she was gone and he tried to convince himself he wasn’t disappointed. New Years Eve came quickly after that, and the Organa-Solo house was turned from cosy family Christmas into _‘every single person we’ve ever met will be here, put everything we’re not proud of away_ ’ nightmare party planning, Ben was surprised that he wasn't included in the items to hide. Ben spent most of his time at the party with Rey, telling himself he was keeping her company because she didn’t know anyone - but that wasn’t true. A lot of the people at the party were her coworkers, her friends, and Ben was in fact, the one on the outs. Only Rey didn’t say anything, she let him tag along like a puppy and introduced him to everyone she spoke to. Someone asked if Ben was her boyfriend and Ben had to bite back the “ _I wish”_ that almost escaped him.

It got closer to midnight and Ben was finding himself feeling overwhelmed, so he climbed his way into the attic and through the dormer window to sit on the roof with his drink. He could hear the party downstairs, and the roof was close enough for the time being. He finished his beer, and picked at the label of the bottle as he thought about how much had changed in the last 6 months, how much better his life was when he was just _honest_ about what he wanted, about what he needed. It was hard to do, no doubt, but worth it.

“Hey, you.” A voice said from the dormer behind him, he turned his head to see Rey. Of course it was Rey, who else’s voice could that have been? “Han said I might find you up here.”

“You were looking for me?”

“It’s almost midnight, you’ll miss the countdown.”

“I think I’m a bit partied out.”

“I get that,” she said, climbing through the dormer window with ease, moving to sit beside him, “It’s nice up here.”

“I used to come up here as a kid, it was nice of my parents to pretend they didn’t know about it.”

“They love you, you know.” Rey said, looking up at him with a kind smile that made Ben’s heart want to leap out of his mouth and off of the roof, “They’re so glad you’re home. Your mum talks about you all the time.”

Ben didn’t quite know how to answer that. Thankfully, he didn’t need to. From the house he heard counting down from ten. “You better get inside quick,” He told her with a smile, “Wouldn’t want to miss the celebration.”

“I’m happy here, thanks.” She said, her small hand finding his on the shingled roof. Ben’s skin burned where she touched him, and before he knew it the countdown hit one, and Rey’s lips had found his. His hand instinctively came to her cheek and he kissed her back. The cheering and excitement from the house was gone, the cool wind of the night air was gone, the roof was gone, there was only Rey.

She pulled back too soon, and Ben’s hand followed her face pathetically, and he was sure she would be able to see his pulse in his neck, rapid and desperate. Rey gave him a smile, kind and warm,

“Happy new year, Ben.”

“Happy new year, Rey.”

Leia went back to work in the new year, and so did Rey. She went back to her own home, and Ben felt her absence, the house feeling like a hollow shell of the one it had been the week before. Ben didn’t hear from Rey after New Years Eve. He went back to writing his book, now printing chapters and taking to them with a red pen, underlining and crossing out and making comments on his own stupidity in the margins. He refused to let his parents read any of the draft, not until it was perfect. Ben brought up a subject he didn’t know how to breach - moving out.

Han had said there was no need, that he could live with them as long as he wanted. Ben understood the hesitancy, it would feel like him leaving again. Ben reassured them that he wasn’t going anywhere, just to an apartment in town that he could call his own. Leia helps him look on their lunch breaks, and together they find a one bedroom, one bathroom in the centre of town that fit his budget. He applied, and he didn’t get it. They found another, and another, and it turned out that his less than stellar credit rating was becoming an issue. Ben conceded that he’d need a roommate before he could live on his own. A coffeeshop he frequented before work had a community noticeboard with apartment listings all the time, so he tried there first.

_5 bedroom, 1 bathroom, $80/week, shared bills._ Four roommates, too noisy.

_2 bedroom, 2 bathroom, $400/week, shared bills._ Too expensive.

_2 bedroom, 1 bathroom, $170/week, shared bills._ Perfect.

Ben pulled out his phone and messaged the number on the flyer, asking if he could come see the room. He organised it for that afternoon after work. It was a ten minute walk from his building and seemed too good to be true. He met the guy who listed the place, Finn, out the front of the building and Finn made him promise that he wasn’t a serial killer. Ben promised. Finn showed him the apartment, it was clean, a little bare of furniture, but tidy and full of natural light.

“Can I have the room?” Ben asked suddenly, after mere moments of being in the apartment.

“Just like that?” Finn asked, skeptically eyeing him, “Are you sure you’re not a serial killer?”

Ben moved in that weekend, loading his books and clothes into boxes, leaving his duffle bag in his wardrobe at his parents house, a symbol they understood, he hoped. Finn drove them to IKEA and Ben bought furniture for the apartment - a new couch and a dining table, a bed frame for him and a mattress. They somehow managed to get the manager to agree to get it delivered that afternoon, and on the way home Ben picked up a six pack of beer and a pizza. He and Finn spent the evening with the TV on, putting the furniture together and eating pizza off of the floor, beers left on various surfaces as they got distracted. Ben told Finn about his job, and his book. Finn worked as an engineer, Ben found out, which didn’t surprise him in the least. The first month of living with Finn flew by, and the relief of having made an extra step in fixing his fuck ups was almost overwhelming.

Finn asked him to go out for drinks one Friday night to meet his friends, and Ben reluctantly agrees on the condition that he stop telling people he thinks Ben might be a serial killer. Finn agrees to the terms, and they get an über across town to a bar Ben had never been to. They arrived and the bar was packed, and Ben offered to get drinks while Finn finds his friends. He’ was leaning over the bar to try and tell the bartender what he wants, but the music is too loud and the bartender tries to guess what he wants and gives him a red wine and a whiskey instead of two beers. He paid for the drinks but before he turned around a small hand found his shoulder and he looked towards the owner, and there was Rey.

His mouth went dry, “Hi” he tried to say to her, she frowned and then pointed up at the roof and then at her ear. She couldn’t hear him, but she left her hand on his shoulder, caught the bartenderseye and pointed at the red wine and then at herself. The bartender understood and poured her another wine, which he didn’t let her pay for. Rey then held onto Ben’s forearm and guided him outside to the beer garden where the music was softer, the air was colder, and she looked somehow even more beautiful.

“Hi,” she said up to him smiling, her hand lingering on his forearm.

“Hey,” he replied, but before he could say much else Finn appeared and pulled Rey into a hug. Ben was confused, beyond confused. It turned out that Rey, _his mothers intern and the girl who kissed him on New Years Ev_ e, was Finn’s, _the guy who he lived with_ , best friend. Ben’s world was getting smaller and smaller. Finn didn’t seem to know anything about Rey and Ben knowing each other and was surprised to find out they had met before, a few times actually.

Ben met Finn’s other friends but none of them captured his attention like Rey. Finn seemed to notice, and with an amused glint in his eye, he leant over to Ben at some point during the night and said,

“She’s pretty, right?”

“Beautiful.” Ben said, the word slipping beyond his lips before he could control it. He flushed instantly and looked up at Finn in horror. Finn smirked at him and patted him on the back in condolences. _Great_ , Ben thought, _now her best friend knows he’s a fucking creep._

He tried, over the next few weeks to stop thinking about her, but he didn’t have anything to distract him like he had after New Year - the house hunt had been a laborious process, but now that he was settled his mind wandered all on its own to the feeling of her lips on his, her small hand burning into his skin. He calls his mother at work and asks if she wants lunch, she apologises because she’s got too much paperwork to finish, and he’s disappointed not because she’s busy, but because he can’t stop by the office and accidentally run into Rey. Sometimes he comes home from work and Finn has left a note saying he’s gone out with friends and Ben feels a kick of envy, knowing that those friends would include Rey.

He found out her last name was Walker. Rey Walker. He’d overheard Finn use her full name on the phone one night, he was scolding her for something but it clearly wasn’t serious because he was laughing half a second later. She had that affect on people, Rey, like she was able to control the emotions of everyone in the room. Or maybe that was just Benjamin. His mind cant let go of the feeling of her body next to his as he taught her to play the piano, the feeling of her feet on his calf. He feels sick, creepy, thinking of her so much. One night he asks Finn for her number, and it’s a true low point, because Finn looks at him like _that_ , like he knows exactly _why_ Ben is asking for her number, but Finn doesn’t know. How could he possibly know the depths of his mind, and the things he feels for her? He couldn’t possibly.

**Ben**

Are you free tonight?

**Rey**

I was wondering when you would message.

**Ben**

Wait, how did you know who it was?

**Rey**

I got your number from your mum back in December.

**Ben**

Why?

**Rey**

Why do you think?

**Ben**

…

So, free tonight?

Benjamin Solo asked her on a date and she said yes. They went out for dinner, and talked the whole time about anything and everything. Rey teased him for not asking her out earlier, and Ben’s ears stayed hot the whole night. He enjoyed her teasing, it felt harmless and light and _fun_ , like everything else Rey did. He asks her if it’s weird, being on a date with his boss’ son, and she said, “No, Leia has been waiting for you to ask me out too. Her and your dad had a bet going.” Ben groaned loudly and let his head rest on the table, “The ever involved Solo’s.”

“You don’t sound like you’re complaining,” she said, curious.

“I guess I’m not really,” he said with a smile, she looked confused so Ben asked, “what did Leia tell you about me leaving?”

“She said that you graduated, and things got really tough, so you left for a few years on a ‘find yourself’ type of thing. She didn’t tell me much more than that, no details, said it was your business. I mostly only heard about you on days where she missed you. Those were hard for her.”

The guilt banged against his ribcage, he managed to say, “She’s too kind.”

“I take the last few years have felt a little different through your eyes.”

“A story for another time, maybe.”

She slid her hand up his arm and rested it on his shoulder, “Whenever you like, I’d like to hear it.” 

“Why do you like me?” Ben asked her abruptly. His failures and embarrassments running through his head like a highlights reel. He figured that probably would have startled someone, the speed at which it came out of his mouth, only it didn’t seem to faze her in the slightest. She just kept her hand on his shoulder and smiled at him,

“Your mum was right,” she said gently, her hand migrating to his cheek, “you can’t see what everyone else can see. You will, one day.”

He walked her home later, her words rolling around in his mind. What was it that everyone else saw, that he didn’t? He saw the worst parts of himself, that much was obvious, but he couldn’t see the good ones, the ones that made his parents still love him despite all he did, that draws Rey to him despite his mess of a life. Ben kissed her at the door to her apartment, leaning on the wall behind her as she pulled on his jacket to bring him closer to her. He had one hand on her waist and the other on the wall, and before long they separated short of breath with chests rising and falling faster than usual.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.” Ben whispers to her, his forehead leaning gently against hers.

“Do you want to come inside?”

_Yes. Yes, I do. More than anything._ “I really shouldn’t, Rey,” he betrayed his body, “I don’t exactly have the best track record with not fucking up good things.”

“Take things slow, got it.” She beamed at him, and Ben couldn’t help but think about wanting to make her smile more, and more. Rey kissed him once more, quicker this time, but just as passionate, before she disappears through her building door. Ben walked home, his mind reeling. He’d been on a date. A date that didn’t involve drugs or sex or self-hatred. He’d had an honest to god conversation with a beautiful woman, and for all he knew it went perfectly. When Ben made it home, Finn was still up on the couch watching some late night talk show.

“How was the date?”

“How have you not tried to date her?” Ben asked, sitting down beside him, “She’s… incredible.”

“I’m gay, Ben. You know that.”

“Yeah, I guess that would do it, but still.”

Ben finished his book sometime in mid-March. He finished it, then tucked the USB into his desk drawer at home. It was done, and he didn’t want to think about it for a while. He’d printed a copy of it, and it was in a large yellow envelope, the one and only copy, for his parents to read. Han tells him he enjoyed it while they work on the Falcon one Sunday morning, says he found the main character compelling and the story wasn’t necessarily over the top, but it was heart aching and relatable. Ben wasn’t sure if he should tell Han how much was taken from experience, and how much was embellished. Han didn’t ask, so Ben didn’t say.

He got a message from Leia when she finished reading it midnight one night.

**Mom**

It’s beautiful. I’m so proud of you.

Ben sends a copy to a publisher, under a pseudonym, Kylo Ren. He has this nagging voice in the back of his head that tells him publishing it under his name would only embarrass his family, would make a mockery of everything they’ve worked for - _their deadbeat son wrote a book, good for them._ He can’t bring himself to show it to Rey yet. The publisher replied and said they wanted it, and offered him a cheque that more than paid for a new car, plus what he still wanted to pay back to Luke. Ben isn’t sure if what he feels is pride, but he likes whatever the feeling is. He gives Rey a copy, one with a mock up of a cover on it, and it feels real, like it’s actually going to happen. They’d been dating for months, and still she had been fine with them taking things slow. She’d been staying over at Finn and Ben’s more and more often, sometimes falling asleep on the couch after they’ve all watched a movie, but more often than not staying in Ben’s bed, curled into him. Both of them fully clothed, touching only hands and arms and faces. The night he gave her the book she sat in the armchair in the living room with only the floor lamp to read by, and she read, and read, until she finished it as the sun was coming up. She crept into Ben’s bed, waking him up by kissing his cheek. Ben mumbled happily, and Rey ran her hand through his hair and said, “Wake up.”

He stirred, eyes fluttering open. He looked at her for a few seconds, before he realised she was still wearing her jeans, “Have you been to bed yet?”

“No, I just finished it.”

“I didn’t mean for you to read it in one sitting, _Jesus_ , Rey.” Ben said, pushing himself up to sitting. She had the book in her lap, and she couldn’t look anywhere besides him. “Well, seeing as you’re all night-owl like, what did you think?” He asked cautiously, worried that having seen all of him, she would be here to say that she couldn’t be with him.

“You know when you’re at the beach, and you get dunked by a wave again and again, and then when you stand up you feel like the ground isn’t real, and you’re all wobbly but your muscles ache from swimming all day, and you get to go lay down on your towel and recover?”

Ben looked at her for a moment, “You’re sleep deprived, come on, we can have this conversation in the morning.” He looked over at his alarm, 4.37am. It was morning.

“No, Ben. That’s how I feel. I feel like this book - _your book -_ was the wave and I feel overwhelmed, and now I’m on the towel, and I’m recovering and I’m aching and I’m just so fucking in love with you that I don’t know what to do with it all.”

Ben was certain his heart had stopped. He stopped breathing. He opened his mouth and nothing came out. He must have looked like a gaping idiot. She didn’t falter, it wasn’t a mistake. She’d said it and meant it.

“Did you hear me, Ben?”

He nodded.

“Can you say something? Anything?”

Ben tried again to make a noise, but couldn’t. Instead, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. She kissed him back, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck. The book falls off the bed and onto the floor as he gently pulls her down and rolls them so she’s on her back, and he’s on top of her, without their lips breaking for even a split second. Her legs wrap around his waist and he pulls back, a groan from his mouth as her hips meet his. She tries to apologise to him, tries to let go of his waist, but he doesn’t let her, his hands gripping her waist and holding her where she was.

“I want you. I need you.” He said, slowly and carefully, giving her an out if she wanted one. She didn’t. Rey sat up, and pulled his shirt up and over his head. She stared at his bare chest and ran her hands over the sharp edges, across the scars he’d earned, across his collarbone and down to his waistband. Ben reached towards her hair and gently pulled the elastic band holding her hair in a ponytail loose, her hair splaying on the comforter beneath her. His hands pushed her shirt up and she helped him take it the rest of the way, finding her without a bra beneath. She didn’t seem to need one, small breasts sitting comfortably on her chest. He made quick work of finding skin to touch, to kiss, and the sound of her whimpers and moans was almost enough for him to lose his composure all together. She pushed him up gently, and he obliged, doing a terrible job of hiding his disappointment, but he quickly realised she was trying to get her jeans off, which he helped her with, grabbing the waist band and yanking them down her long legs. The longer she was under him, the more desperate he was becoming. His mouth found hers again and his hands explored her body, every edge and bump and smooth corner - until his fingers found his prize. The soft cotton of her panties was slick, and he groaned into her neck. One, then two, fingers had her writhing beneath him and begging for him. Ben had never heard anything so beautiful in his whole life.

Ben reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out a condom, ripping the packet and pushing his pyjama pants down unceremoniously, making short work of it. When he looked back to Rey, she was staring at him.

“What?” He asked, all of a sudden insecure - wondering if maybe he’d read the situation completely wrong.

“You’re just…” She blushed, her cheeks bright red, “Proportionate.” It took Ben a moment to figure out what she meant. He followed her line of sight and realised what she was trying to say to him. He couldn’t help the arrogant smirk that formed on his face, which earned him a “Just _shut_ _up_ and fuck me, already.”

Ben did as he was told. The warm grip of her cunt was bliss. He grunted as they moved together, her moans in his ear encouraging him, her nails in his back telling him exactly how much she wanted him. They ended up a sweaty mess on his bed, Ben’s pyjama pants not even off all the way and Rey’s panties completely ruined. His phone pinged and he checked it,

**Finn**

Can you guys go to her place next time?

His book sold more copies than the publisher had anticipated - they rushed to print more, and then more. It made a number of bestseller lists, and he couldn’t pass a bookstore in town without seeing a display of the book. Rey told him how proud she was of him every day, told him that he deserved all of the good things life had to offer, and for the first time in a long time, he was starting to believe that. Rey was his world. She kept him sane, kept him focused, kept him gentle. Rey got offered a full time job at Leia’s firm when her internship was up, because Leia wasn’t stupid enough to let a lawyer like Rey go. Ben had worried about about there being nepotism claims, until he saw Rey in court. He’d sat in the back of the room for a misdemeanour case she was working on, and she had swiftly made the prosecution all but shit their pants. Rey’s job had absolutely nothing to do with Ben Solo, and everything to do with Rey Walker. He finally got around to telling her that he loved her, after his birthday dinner at his parents house. The four of them sat at the fancy dining table they only used for special occasions, and celebrated Ben’s thirtieth birthday. After dinner, Ben started the drive back to his place, but missed the turn. Rey tried to tell him but he kept driving. He drove another ten minutes, until they pulled up to a small townhouse.

“What are we doing here?”

“Do you want to live here?”

Ben tried to explain that he’d bought the place for them, for them to start their lives together. It had been almost twelve months since he had come back to town, and his life was back on track and she had so much to do with it. She was his whole universe. He loved her, and he would only ever want her, beside him. It took Rey a few moments to understand but when she did, she burst into tears. Once she stopped crying long enough to tell him that they were in fact overwhelmed tears and not sad tears, Ben carried her out of the car, and into the house. It had no furniture, the utilities weren’t turned on yet, and the walls were an ugly shade of green, but for now, it was all theirs. As he held her into his chest in the middle of the bare soon to be living room, Ben couldn’t help but think about how different his life was, how painful the process had been, but how fucking worth it. He’d do it all again to get here, with her, and he wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I needed a dose of sweet after my last piece, so that is what this is. Something lighter, something that feels like home. Let me know what you think x


End file.
